Thunder at Dawn Read online

  No time to dillydally over dresses. But still . . . the choice between the lacy blue sheath and the amber silk was difficult. Both were lovely.

  “This one,” she told Corinne suddenly, lifting the strapless amber gown from the bed. The bodice glistened with hand-sewn sequins and the color was rich and vibrant. It would be great with her hair and eyes.

  The flow, color, cut of this dress were at once sexy and elegant. That was the problem. “I love it, but . . . Corinne, it’s not really me. If you only knew—I wear charcoal pinstripes or button-down black every day. All the time. Black suits, black jackets, black heels. This is so . . .”

  “Feminine? Fun? Drop-dead sexy?” Corinnne burst out laughing. “You’re not an assistant DA tonight, honey. You’re not even a lawyer. You’re a gorgeous woman attending a glamorous charity event with one of the hottest men to walk the earth. Go for it.”

  Go for it. Why not? Faith couldn’t help wondering about the expression on Zach’s face when he saw her in something this seductive. Her lips curved. “Can I wear it with black heels?”

  Corinne winked at her. “The higher the better.”

  An hour and a half later she was back at the cabin as the afternoon sun drifted across the calm blue western sky. All had been in perfect order in the main lobby and dining hall of the dude ranch, and the auction items were handsomely displayed. Everything looked ready to go.

  She’d felt a twinge of satisfaction when she surveyed the array of donated items. With any luck, a great deal of money would be raised for the new wing of the hospital tonight.

  But as she lifted the gown from the SUV, a shiver tingled down her spine. She glanced quickly around, not even knowing why.

  She hadn’t heard anything. Or seen anything. She just had an uneasy feeling, like that time in town . . .

  It’s only because it’s so lonely out here, she thought impatiently. And because you haven’t been back to the cabin much.

  She’d only come by intermittently during the past days, long enough to fetch fresh clothes, clean up, check on the place. She hated that whoever had killed Candy had managed to make her anxious about staying at this cabin, a home away from home that she’d loved all of her life.

  But he had. Her neck muscles clenched as she scanned the area—the trees that ran behind the cabin, the slope winding down toward the ravine, the place where she’d tripped over Candy’s body. The yellow police tape was down, but the spot was engraved in her memory forever.

  And she couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching her. Her heartbeat quickened as she studied the area yet again, every sense alert. There was no sound except for the rustle of the wind, the song of a meadowlark.

  No one was in sight, and nothing looked unusual.

  But she found herself hurrying toward the door. Even when she entered, though, and locked the door behind her, the feeling persisted. She hung the dress in the closet and then found herself returning to the window, gazing out all across the mesa, her heart racing.

  She saw nothing, no one, except the wide blue sky, the sweep of rock and scrub grass, the lavender blue sagebrush sloping down the hills. A lone hawk swooped toward the mountains, effortless in the clean, crystal air.

  But her sense of foreboding lingered. Strange—since she’d been sleeping with Zach, her nightmares had faded away, but now during her waking hours, especially when she was alone, uneasiness pricked at her.

  She bit her lip and tried to shake her apprehension.

  Time to get in the shower. It was getting late. She had to find some jewelry that would look right with the dress, and do something with her hair . . .

  Faith forced herself to leave the window, to stop feeling afraid. Since when did she believe in premonitions?

  Yet she took a moment to give the cabin a good once- over—even looking in closets, in the tub, and under the bed before she turned on the water in the glass-enclosed shower and stripped off her clothes. Then she locked the door.

  She let the tension and unease run off her in rivulets as the water struck her with tingling force. The scent of milk-and-honey shampoo and body wash clung to her damp skin as she dried off and wrapped a fluffy towel turban-style around her hair.

  She had an hour to turn herself into a dinner-dance diva.

  Good luck with that, she thought. Then she remembered the amber silk dress. She hadn’t worn anything soft and beautiful in a long time. What would Zach say when he saw her in it? Even more important, what would she see in his eyes?

  Stop mooning like a fourteen-year-old about to go on your first movie date, she told herself. You’ve been sleeping with the man all week. And he’s made it clear he can’t keep his hands off you . . . and vice versa, she thought with a grin.

  Their lovemaking had been exquisite—passionate and exciting and wonderful. Sometimes gentle . . . other times so wild and fierce it was almost primal.

  But he hadn’t spoken a word about love.

  And why should he? The teenage days of puppy love and pledges of forever were long gone. They were two adults who were starting from scratch, and whether they were building a new relationship or just indulging long-held passions—what difference did it make?

  But the truth was . . . it did make a difference—to her. It made all the difference in the world. Because she was in love with him. She’d never stopped being in love with him.

  Even when she’d been engaged to Kevin, she realized, he’d never had the hold on her heart that Zach did. Letting Kevin go had been painful, but she’d managed it without a tenth of the pain she’d felt when Zach had abandoned her. And she was as much of a fool when it came to Zach McCallum today as she’d ever been. But she’d be damned if she’d let him know it.

  Grabbing a fresh pair of ivory satin panties and a matching bra from the chest of drawers across from her bed, Faith began to dress.

  He smiled to himself deep within the trees north of the cabin.

  She was spooked, he could tell. The binoculars had shown him the exact expression on her face, and it was delicious.

  The bitch didn’t look so confident anymore, did she now? She looked worried. Tense. Dare he say it? Afraid!

  He almost laughed out loud with glee.

  Wait until the night was over. She’d be beyond worry. She’d be over the edge. And that was just where he wanted her—for now.

  Chapter 21

  PATTI CLOSED HER EYES AND SWALLOWED PAINFULLY. Her throat hurt worse than it had yesterday. Her fever was elevated to 102.

  Damn it, after all this planning and work, she was going to miss the dinner dance. The auction. The biggest night of the year in Thunder Creek.

  But as frustrated as she was by that fact, she was far more worried about the baby. What if she needed to take antibiotics? She didn’t want to take anything that might affect the baby. Even painkillers. She’d sucked on half a dozen lozenges so far today, and had drunk a whole pot of tea.

  But her throat was getting worse, not better.

  Time to give it up, she told herself as she sat up in her bed, one hand touching her throat. There was no choice but to call Faith and break the news.

  “Hello?” Faith sounded breathless when she answered the phone, and Patti knew she was probably rushing to get dressed.

  “Bad news, girlfriend,” Patti rasped, trying to sound more upbeat than she felt.

  “Patti? You sound horrible. Your voice . . . don’t tell me you’re worse!”

  “I’m worse. My fever started shooting up again about a half hour ago. Doc Evans is coming over later to check me out—he’s worried about strep. And Bob’s on his way home. The bad news is that you’re going to have to tell me all about the dinner dance tomorrow because I’m not going to make it. And I have all the programs here. Bob can bring them to the auction later or—”

  “No, Bob should stay with you,” Faith interrupted. “Honey, don’t worry about a thing. I’ll swing by right now and get the programs, and I’ll have Zach pick me up at your place.”


  “Are you sure?” Patti reached for another lozenge, but she’d left the package on her dresser. Too tired to get up for it, she fell back against the pillow. “If you don’t mind, that would be great, Faith. I do feel sort of light-headed with this fever so it would be better for Bob to stick around.”

  “I won’t have it any other way. Can I bring you anything?” Faith asked, sounding worried.

  “How about some of those yummy desserts Katy and Bessie whipped up?” Patti sighed. “A slice of everything should do it. I’m eating for two, after all.”

  “You’ve got it. I’ll come by tomorrow with a platter of goodies. And I’ll fill you in on everything. I’m leaving in one minute, honey, so hang in there.”

  Setting the phone down, Patti reached for her cup and took another sip of lukewarm green tea.

  So much for champagne and dancing in my new little sequined dress, she thought. She closed her eyes, willing herself to sleep, to get some strength in case Bob wasn’t back before Faith arrived. Ever since Candy’s murder, Bob had insisted they keep all the doors locked, so she’d have to go downstairs to let Faith in.

  Right now that felt like a gargantuan task.

  She must have drifted off to sleep. She wasn’t sure how long it was before something woke her. A sound.

  A door was squeaking. The front door—Bob kept meaning to fix it. Odd though that he would come in that way instead of through the kitchen like always . . .

  “Bob? Honey?” Swallowing against the pain, she pushed herself up again and peered at the clock. Only a few minutes had passed—he must have made record time.

  “Honey, are you coming up?”

  There was no answer. Bob always answered her . . .

  She heard a footfall at the bottom of the stairs. Soft. Stealthy. Not like Bob’s loud clumping.

  Patti’s blood froze. It wasn’t Bob and it wasn’t Faith. They would have answered her . . . someone else was coming up the stairs . . .

  She grabbed for the phone, clutching it like a lifeline as she pushed herself out of bed. Adrenaline got her to the door, but before she slammed and locked it, she leaned out into the hall, peering fearfully down the stairs.

  And then she saw him and the color drained from her face.

  He was halfway up, his face turned toward her. But she had no idea who he was. He wore a mask, like a child’s Halloween mask, all black, with slits for the eyes, nose, and mouth—the slits outlined in gory red.

  Terror shot through her, not for herself, but for her baby. Screaming, she jumped back and tried to slam the door, but he moved faster than anyone she’d ever seen and smashed it into her. She flew backward into the dresser and went down hard, the phone flying from her grasp.

  Pain splintered through her and a silent scream raged in her throat as she tried to stand up. But she was moving too slowly and he was coming at her. There was a knife in his hand, but she wasn’t even staring at that—she was staring in stupefied horror at the chilling soulless expression in his eyes.

  And she knew in that instant she was going to die.

  Faith seized the little silver makeup bag she was bringing to the dinner dance in place of an evening clutch. She dropped her lipstick, cell phone, and driver’s license inside, then spun toward the mirror for one last quick glance, aware of the need for haste.

  Not bad, she thought, smiling at the sight of the willowy woman in the mirror. The woman had a mass of gleaming curls, shimmering coral lips, and smokily defined eyes. She looked sexy, sensuous in that clinging fiery gown. She wore simple diamond stud earrings and the pearls her grandmother had given to her before she died. They were the same classic strand of pearls she wore in court every day, but tonight they looked different—she looked different.

  All because of this sultry dream of a dress.

  Okay, Zach’s going to drool when he sees you, she thought with satisfaction, then whirled toward the door, moving fast for a woman in three-inch stiletto heels.

  She didn’t look like she belonged in an Explorer tonight—she looked more like the kind of woman who’d step out of a Jag—but she put the SUV into gear and roared off in a cloud of dust.

  Faith didn’t slow down until she braked in Patti and Bob’s driveway and parked behind Patti’s Bronco.

  There was no sign of Zach’s car yet, so she might have time to heat up some soup for Patti or at least make her a fresh pot of tea, she thought as she hurried toward the front door.

  She’d intended to knock, but it was ajar. Pushing it open, she stepped inside, but as she opened her mouth to call out, she heard Patti scream.

  High, piercing, and terrified, the sound cut through her and for one horrible instant she froze. She stared blindly up the steps toward the place where that unholy shriek had come from.

  Then she was rushing up the stairs, nearly tripping in her stilettos, but hanging on to the stairwell as she ran at full speed. “Patti, Patti, where are you—”

  She heard a sliding sound, a thumping, and sobs.

  Weak, fading sobs . . .

  Oh, God, no . . . no, no, no.

  Faith tore around the corner, following the sounds—they were coming from Patti and Bob’s bedroom.

  She gasped in the doorway, stunned by what she saw.

  Patti—on the floor near the dresser, her face white as death. Pain burned in her unfocused eyes. Blood was everywhere . . . covering Patti’s nightgown, smearing her trembling hands, splashed across the hardwood floor.

  “My . . . baby,” Patti whimpered as Faith knelt frantically beside her. “Save . . . my baby . . .”

  “I will, Patti. I promise. Stay with me, honey, just stay with me!” Faith was already punching the phone buttons. “I need an ambulance at the Maxwell ranch!” she shouted into the phone. “Patti’s been stabbed. There are multiple wounds—hurry!”

  The biggest stab wound was in Patti’s thigh—a jagged, gaping wound still pouring blood.

  Faith bolted into the bathroom, grabbed some towels from the rack, and dashed back. As she folded one against the wound Patti jerked convulsively, moaned, and then her eyes drifted shut.

  She’s going into shock. But she’s not going to die. She’ll wake up, she’ll get a transfusion, she’ll be fine, the baby will be fine.

  Please God.

  Single-mindedly, Faith kept pressure on the wound, terror sweeping her. Later she would see the wide open window, the curtain smeared with blood as whoever had done this had snatched it aside before climbing out and jumping to the ground.

  All that would be for Rick Keene to look at.

  She was looking at her friend, watching agony and grief and death creep into Patti’s face.

  Then, from inside her clutch, dropped and forgotten on the bedroom floor, her cell phone started to ring.

  Chapter 22

  ZACH ROUNDED THE HOSPITAL CORNER FAST, nearly colliding with an orderly pushing a gurney. He avoided the man at the last instant, swearing—and then he spotted her. She was slumped in a metal folding chair outside Room 247, her head in her hands. Even as he strode toward her, a nurse rushed into the room and Faith lifted her head, watching the woman hurry past. There were tears on her face, he saw, his gut clenching. And blood on her gown.

  She saw him then and pushed herself shakily from her chair. Anguished tears filled her eyes. At the sight of them, and of the blood spattering her arms, her hands, her gown, his insides twisted into hard painful knots.

  “It’s Patti, Zach—she might lose the baby,” she wept as he gathered her into his arms. He held her close as her sobs intensified. “He . . . he stabbed her . . . she lost so much blood . . . she hasn’t regained consciousness—”

  “She will. Do you hear me, Faith? She will. Patti’s strong, she’ll pull through this. And so will her baby.”

  He stroked her hair, cradling her against him as if he could somehow take some of her pain onto himself, ease the burden in her breaking heart. “Hang on, sweetheart. It’ll be okay.”

  But he knew it might not be. The
horror of it made him tighten his arms around her. He’d give anything for two minutes alone with whoever had done this.

  It took a while before her sobs subsided. Zach controlled his need to find out what had happened, waiting until she was quieter and until she took a deep, shaky breath.

  “I got your message,” he said soothingly. “Bob’s here with her?”

  She nodded. “He . . . arrived right after I called . . . for the ambulance. He’s in with . . . P-Patti . . . now.”

  “Can you tell me what happened, baby?” He had to fight to keep from bombarding her with questions. “Did you see who did it?”

  “I’d be interested in hearing your answer to that myself.”

  They both started at the sound of Deputy Rick Keene’s voice. Zach released Faith and turned toward him.

  “Not now, Keene. Give her a few minutes—”

  “No, it’s all right, I want to talk to him!” Faith brushed at her tear-streaked face with the back of her bloody hands. “I’ll do anything I can—to help you catch him. I-I know just who you have to look for. I should have told you before.”

  Keene stared at her. “You know who killed Candy Merck and who attacked Patti? You saw him?”

  “No, I didn’t . . . s-see him—he was gone by the time I got upstairs, but I know who did it—he left a message on my cell phone. It’s all because of me. He’s trying to scare me . . . to intimidate me.” She turned to Zach and fresh tears burned her eyes. “It’s my fault this happened,” she whispered. “They have to find him now—tonight!”

  “Bayman.” Zach drew in a breath. “Bayman left a message on your cell?”

  “Yes—right after I found Patti. I . . . I heard it ringing, but I didn’t listen to the message until after we were at the hospital . . . after they took Patti—”

  “Who the hell is Bayman?” Keene broke in angrily. “If you’ve been withholding information from me, I want to know why. I don’t care who your brother is—”